My invisible feet make themselves
Stick up under my thick pink and white blanket:
Closer to my body than I'd like.
I never stop begging my legs to grow.
My circle pink-edged mirror gazes up with its silver eye
At the white ceiling - not receiving a stare in return.
If the flowers embedded in my blanket could talk -
They'd say 'With the senses forever walk.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem